Chapter 7: Crimson Sun Test
The cheap clock on the microwave glowed 1:47 AM when Derek heard the key in the lock. He was curled on the lumpy couch, a blanket pulled to his chin, feigning sleep. The door swung open, and a rectangle of sickly hall light spilled across the worn carpet.
“Shhh, you idiot,” Raven’s voice, husky with laughter, cut through the dark.
“I’m not the one who tripped,” Josh shot back, his words slurring just enough to betray the three overpriced cocktails he’d undoubtedly consumed.
Their shadows moved in a clumsy dance, shedding jackets, kicking off shoes. Derek watched through slitted eyes as Josh pulled Raven into a clumsy, deep kiss, his hands sliding down to cup her ass through her black leggings. A hot needle of jealousy plunged into Derek’s gut.He forced his breathing to remain slow and even.
They stumbled past him, into the hallway, and the bedroom door clicked shut. The apartment settled into a thicker silence, broken only by the hum of the refrigerator.Derek waited. He counted the soft creaks of the bedsprings, the muffled giggles, then the eventual, rhythmic groan of the mattress.It didn’t last long. Soon, Josh’s sonorous, rasping snores began to vibrate through the thin wall.Another hour passed. Derek didn’t move.He was a statue, a piece of discarded furniture.He was nothing.He was everything.
Finally, he pushed the blanket aside.The air was cold on his skin. He stood, barefoot, and padded across the carpet, his heart a wild drum in his throat. The bedroom door was unlocked.He turned the knob with infinite care, easing it open just wide enough to slip through.
The room smelled of sex, cheap vanilla perfume, and Josh’s musky deodorant. A sliver of streetlight cut between the black lace curtains, illuminating Josh, spreadeagled and unconscious on his back, mouth agape. Raven was curled on her side facing him, a pale curve under a sheet, her violet-streaked hair fanning across the pillow.
Derek knelt beside the bed.His knees pressed into the coarse pile of the rug. He could smell her—a warmer, softer scent underneath the perfume.He leaned close, his lips an inch from her ear. His own breath felt loud in the stillness.“Crimson Sun,” he whispered.Her eyes opened instantly. They were wide, unblinking, reflecting the faint light with a glassy, vacant sheen.She sat up mechanically, the sheet pooling around her waist. She didn’t look at Josh.She didn’t look at Derek. She simply swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, a pale ghost in a thin tank top and panties.
Derek rose and took her hand.It was limp and cool in his. He led her, silent and pliant, out of the bedroom, past the couch, and into the center of the living room rug. The only light came from the digital clock and the dull orange streetlamp outside the window.
“Take your clothes off,” he said, his voice low but firm.Her hands went to the hem of her tank top. She pulled it over her head, her breasts swaying heavily, nipples dark and taut in the cool air. She hooked her thumbs into the sides of her panties and pushed them down her thighs, stepping out of them.She stood naked, arms at her sides, waiting.“Turn around. Bend over. Put your hands on the arm of the couch.”
She obeyed, her movements fluid and precise, like a machine executing code. She bent from the waist, her spine a graceful curve, presenting herself to him. The streetlight glazed the pale, full mounds of her ass, the dark shadow between them.Derek unbuttoned his pajama pants and let them fall. His cock was already hard, jutting out angrily. He spat into his palm, a thick, wet glob, and rubbed it over his shaft.He spat again, this time gathering the spit on his fingertips.
He pressed his wet fingers against her puckered asshole. It was tight, a clenched knot of muscle.He pushed against it, and she let out a soft, shuddering sigh.
“You want this, don’t you?” he grunted, working his fingertip past the resistant ring.
“Yes,” she breathed, and her voice was hollow, distant. She pushed back against his hand, forcing his finger deeper inside her.The heat there was incredible, a tight, clutching furnace.
He removed his finger and positioned the swollen head of his cock at her entrance.He pressed forward, not gently. The resistance was immediate, a taut barrier of flesh.He shoved, using his weight. Her body yielded with a soft, wet pop, and he was inside, buried to the hilt in one brutal, burying stroke.
A ragged, muffled scream tore from her throat, stifled by the cushion her face was pressed into.Her whole body went rigid, then trembled violently. Derek didn’t move, letting her adjust to the savage fullness. Then he pulled back almost all the way and drove into her again.“Fuck,” he hissed. The grip was unbelievable, a tight, slick vice milking his cock.
He set a punishing rhythm, each thrust a deep, claiming plunge.His balls slapped wetly against her drooling cunt. He gripped the sharp bones of her hips, his fingers digging into her pale flesh, holding her in place for his onslaught. The sound was obscene in the quiet room: the wet slap of skin, his ragged grunts, her choked, stifled moans.
“You’re my anal slut,” he panted, driving into her with jackhammer force. “Say it.”
“I’m your anal slut,” she gasped, the words rhythmic with his thrusts. “I’m your anal slut.”
Her ass was reddening under the impacts.A sheen of sweat made her skin gleam. Derek could feel his orgasm coiling, a tight spring in his guts. He fucked her harder, faster, losing all finesse, just animal pounding. He felt her inner muscles begin to flutter wildly around his shaft.“You gonna cum, you dirty slut?” he growled. “You gonna cum from getting your ass ripped open?”
“Yes… please…” she whimpered, pushing back onto him desperately.
It was too much.The tension snapped. With a raw shout, Derek pulled his cock from her grasping hole just as the first jet of cum erupted. Hot, white stripes painted across her reddened asshole and the small of her back. He kept coming, pulsing over her violated skin, grunting with each release.He stood there, breathless, watching his cum drip down the curve of her ass. Then he shoved two fingers back into her slack, used hole, scooping up the warm, sticky fluid and pushing it back inside her.“Now,” he said, his voice drained and flat. “Go back to bed. You will remember this as a hot dream, a filthy dream you’re too ashamed to think about in the morning.You’ll wake up satisfied and aching. Go.”
He pulled his fingers free.She straightened up slowly, movements wooden again. She didn’t look at him.She didn’t look at the mess on her back. She simply walked, with that same empty precision, back to the bedroom. Derek watched her go, a naked phantom disappearing into the dark hall.He heard the faint rustle of sheets as she slid back into bed beside the oblivious Josh.
Derek pulled up his pants. He sank onto the couch, the adrenaline leaching away, leaving a hollow, buzzing exhaustion.And beneath it, a deep, glowing satisfaction.The code had compiled. The program had run.The data was perfect.He listened.No sound came from the bedroom. Just the snoring. His eyes drifted to the cracked screen of his laptop, glowing faintly on the coffee table. In the quiet dark, his mind was already whirring, algorithms spinning, considering variables, planning the next iteration.The experiment was yielding fascinating results. It was only logical to proceed.